Mercy Not Malice

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

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I was holding my mother's hand when she died. She shuddered one last breath, then exhaled and was still. The room was eerily silent. The heart monitor stopped chirping. I had waited alone by her hospital bed holding her hand, her fingers now cool and pale. I began to thank the Lord for her life. Tears flowed down my cheeks; sorrow mixed with joy. I knew where Mom was. Death was merciful as her body expired. I would see her again! When the nurse came in, I leaned on her shoulder and sobbed.

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